Sleep Deprivation
by Ivvic
Summary: A/C Angst. “You understand, of course, that this can’t ever happen again,” Aziraphale said as casually as he could from where he stood at the end of the bed, looking down at Crowley, fingers nimbly doing up the row of buttons on his shirt.


Title: Sleep Deprivation

Warnings: Swearing and implied consensual sex

Disclaimers: The characters herein belong to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, and are from the novel Good Omens. I am not making any monetary gain from this work of fan fiction.

Aziraphale woke suddenly to a pounding headache and realized with a start that he was, for the first time in his very long existence, not alone in his bed. It was unusual enough for him to sleep to begin with, because that was something he normally only indulged in after overindulging with fermented beverages. As he normally only accomplished that mean feat when with a certain individual it followed suit that the demon in question was his current bed partner.

Aziraphale turned his head slightly and confirmed visually that it was indeed Crowley pressed tightly to his side. With a thought Aziraphale corrected his body chemistry, removing toxins and replenishing electrolytes.

As his headache cleared the events of the previous night surfaced in his mind. He carefully reviewed them, trying to stay impassive but was unable to suppress a blush as he remembered how impious he personally had acted. If he were to be honest Crowley had been a paragon of virtue in comparison. In fact, Crowley had not only not pressed Aziraphale into acting as he had, he'd made a half-hearted attempt dissuade the inebriated angel.

Knowing the only course of action open to him Aziraphale tried to extract himself from the bed but in the process woke up Crowley who snuggled, there was no other word for it, snuggled closer into Aziraphale and murmured a sleepy good morning.

Aziraphale firmly removed Crowley's arms from around him and exited the bed. Crowley gazed up at him with a look of befuddlement, which Aziraphale wrongly assumed meant that the demon hadn't yet remembered what had happened the night previous and wasn't sure why he had woken up where he had, or rather, with whom he had.

"Leaving so soon?" Crowley asked, trying for his usual cavalier tone. "I wouldn't have pegged you as the love them and leave them type."

"You understand, of course, that this can't ever happen again," Aziraphale said as casually as he could from where he stood at the end of the bed, looking down at Crowley, fingers nimbly doing up the row of buttons on his shirt. The physical movements seemed to be helping him draw his dignity around himself.

Crowley couldn't speak past the constricting band enveloping his chest and was restricted to nodding his head in agreement, though he wanted to do anything but consent to those terms. It was all he could do to smooth his face and keep it from portraying the nauseating array of confusion, distress and hurt welling inside of him. Crowley didn't say another word as Aziraphale finished dressing, just mutely watched him leave.

Alone in his bed silent tears started coursing down Crowley's cheeks.

When Crowley ran into Aziraphale weeks later, not that he had been avoiding the angel or anything like that, he was looking a little rough around the edges. Aziraphale commented on his haggard appearance.

"Just been busy, haven't been able to get much sleep."

"You don't actually need to sleep," Aziraphale pointed out, a little disconcerted. As far as he had been aware sleep was virtually a compulsion for the demon, something he always made time for.

"I guess the old corporation just got used to a regular lie-in," Crowley said. Then he made his excuses, 'busy, you know,' and made his exit. What Crowley didn't, couldn't, tell Aziraphale was that he hadn't been to sleep once since that fateful morning. Didn't tell Aziraphale that he couldn't sleep anymore because he couldn't bear waking up alone, not after experiencing how exquisite it was to wake to the scent and feel of the angel. Not after he'd wanted it for so long.

It was almost a whole month before Aziraphale was able to track down the demon again. When Crowley spotted Aziraphale he tried to make a hasty and unobtrusive escape, but the angel wasn't having any of that and Crowley found his path obstructed by thirteen stone of determined angel.

"You've been avoiding me," the words were crisp but contained hints of dismay and frustration.

"Have not," was Crowley's clever response. "I told you, I've been busy."

"With what? Isn't it your duty, as it pertains to the Arrangement, to inform me of any extra assignments you've received. So that I may thwart in kind?"

"Just, the usual, you know," Crowley hedged as he tried to skulk around Aziraphale towards the blocked exit.

"If it's just the usual then you have plenty of time to get lunch with me. My treat," Aziraphale insisted, grasping Crowley's upper arm and guiding him out of the building they were in and presumably towards a suitable restaurant.

"Not hungry."

"Don't be absurd. You never pass up free food, well, good food and you're looking a little peaked." Aziraphale stopped walking and pulled Crowley in front of him and surveyed him critically and Crowley found himself hard pressed not to squirm under the scrutiny. Crowley still hadn't been to back to the bed Aziraphale had briefly occupied and it showed in small fractures of his composure. There were tight lines around blood shot eyes and the corners of his mouth and his clothes didn't appear to be as neatly pressed as usual. There were other signs, but Aziraphale couldn't quite place his finger on what they were. "Are you feeling alright?" he finally asked.

"I'm fine. And I'm not hungry, and I've got things to do." Crowley hoped that last didn't sound as desperate as he thought it did. They began journeying down the sidewalk, Aziraphale's grasp insistent.

"Why are you avoiding me Crowley?" Aziraphale demanded. "Is it because of the night we, well," for all the forcefulness of his tone Aziraphale found himself unable to complete the sentence and settled for waving his hand in a meaningful way. "You were as much to blame for the goings-on as I was. Moreover, I wouldn't expect a demon to care."

"Of course I cared," Crowley snapped out, cutting short Aziraphale's diatribe on the licentiousness of demonic activity. "I cared a sight more than you did, I imagine."

"I can't imagine why. You aren't likely to get in trouble for, for sins of the flesh," Aziraphale objected.

"You're missing the point!" Crowley shouted and yanked his arm away from Aziraphale as his temper and control ruptured. Crowley stormed down the street toward his car and peeled out of the parking spot before Aziraphale completely grasped what had just happened.

Aziraphale wasn't content to wait weeks before seeing the demon again and this time waylaid the demon at his apartment that evening.

"I'm sure that I locked that door," Crowley said sourly from his couch, light from the television flickering over taut features and the glass of wine in his hand.

"Locks have never seemed to bother you before. Aren't you going to offer me a drink?" Aziraphale asked pointedly as the demon continued to stare at him. Crowley didn't respond in any way, but Aziraphale was undeterred and produced his own glass before filing it from the bottle on the floor and sitting on the far end of the couch. Crowley wasn't sure who Aziraphale was trying to give space, but he knew that it wasn't enough. He got up from the couch and began striding along the length of his living room.

"What do you want Aziraphale?" It wasn't so much a question as a demand for the angel to leave.

"I want to resolve whatever problem is between us. We've been compatriots for such a long time now I'd hate to lose our Arrangement, our friendship." The last was said tentatively, historically Crowley wasn't fond of affectionate terms.

"It's nothing Aziraphale. Just give me some space and time and it'll sort itself out."

"Why haven't you been sleeping?" Crowley started at the unexpected question, wine sloshing precariously close to the rim of his glass.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," the soft statement was simply said. Aziraphale watched Crowley's agitated pacing with an air of infinite patience, one hand resting on his thigh while the other gently swirled his wine glass. Eventually the silence overwhelmed Crowley and forced an answer from him.

"Because I'm tired of waking up alone, alright?" Crowley interrupted his pacing to glare fiercely at the angel, daring him to scoff at the sentiment.

"I wouldn't think you'd lack for any bed partners," Aziraphale said, surprised.

"You've had your answers for the night. Finish your wine and leave."

"If you're lonely why don't you just pick up some random human?" Aziraphale persisted. Frankly, he'd assumed the demon did just that on a regular basis when he wasn't with the angel, though he'd never been so tactless as to ask.

"I don't want some random human," Crowley snapped. Unspoken the logical continuation of that sentence hung heavy on the air. Crowley downed the rest of his wine in a violent movement before jerkily resuming his pacing.

"Crowley," Aziraphale said before he trailed off, unable to come up with anything appropriate to say.

"Don't," Crowley commanded as he froze in place, back still turned to the angel. "Just, don't. You need to leave, I need you to leave, okay? Just go."

"Crowley, I-" Again the words wouldn't come.

"Get out." Crowley's voice was steady but a tremor in his shoulders revealed his distress. Aziraphale set down his wine glass on a small end table that appeared for that purpose and walked up behind Crowley, tentatively placing his hands on Crowley's tense shoulders.

"Please leave," Crowley whispered, voice husky with tears he was barely containing. Aziraphale stood there for a few seconds longer before acquiescing. Alone Crowley sank onto the floor, this time crying noisily, gasping for breath.

After he managed to collect himself enough to return to his wine bottle he starting downing glasses between broken sobs.

Aziraphale returned to Crowley's flat early the next morning. Again he didn't bother with knocking, just let himself inside. He was stunned to find Crowley sprawled on the floor in front of his pristine white couch, over turned and empty wine bottle close to hand. The wine glass was nowhere to be seen, though Aziraphale's was still on the newest pieces of furniture and the television was still blathering on. Apparently Crowley's psychological need for sleep combined with the excessive amount of alcohol he had clearly indulged in had caught up with him.

Aziraphale knelt next to the prostrate demon and pressed his fingertips to Crowley's shoulder. When Crowley didn't respond he pressed harder and then began to shake him. Crowley stirred but didn't wake, unable to compete with the vast amounts of wine still in his system. Satisfied that the demon hadn't drunk himself to discorporation Aziraphale hefted him in his arms and carried him to the bedroom.

Aziraphale stood in the doorway for a long moment, a puzzled crease on his brow as he looked at the unmade bed. If Crowley hadn't slept in nearly two months how was it that the bed was still unmade? Unwilling to deal with the implications he willed the bed clean, changing the sheets not to the expected and dreaded tartan but a soft robin's egg blue. In short order Aziraphale had the demon tucked safely in his bed and he turned to leave, only to find that his feet were unwilling to guide him from the room.

Deciding that perhaps it was his duty, if not obligation to keep an eye on the demon to ensure that no harm befell him he settled on a chair and watched the demon sleep.

Crowley gave a small moan as he returned to consciousness. Realizing that he wasn't alone in his room he declined to open his eyes, thinking maybe to outwait his visitor but gave that up as a loss after approximately five minutes. There was no way he could stay sane lying there with the angel's gaze on him.

Crowley glared at Aziraphale through slitted eyelids but didn't speak. Crowley materialized a pair of dark sunglasses when he saw that Aziraphale was aware he was awake and fixed his hangover.

"Sleep well?" Aziraphale asked, unable to come up with anything but polite meaninglessness.

"You can leave now."

"Well, you did say that you didn't care to wake up alone," Aziraphale said somewhat defensively.

"You know bloody well this isn't what I meant."

"Yes. Well. I wanted to talk to you about that."

"Oddly enough I don't have any desire to talk about it with you," Crowley said as he moved into a position reminiscent of opulent sultans, finding it difficult to sound imposing whilst flat on his back.

"Crowley, don't be difficult. This is an awkward enough situation."

"So sorry to discomfit you," Crowley drawled as he reclined further against his pillows, momentarily wishing he were nude, or at the very least shirtless so he could strategically let the blankets slip down his lithe body to show Aziraphale what he was losing out on.

"We need to discuss this."

"Why? So you can tell me how sorry you are at how this turned out? I don't want your pity."

"I don't pity you dear boy, but you can't think I wouldn't be moved by the situation."

"The only moving I want you to do is through the door, and once you've gone through it I'm going to ward the blasted thing."

They both knew that Aziraphale could easy undo anything Crowley could conjure, just as they both knew that he was unlikely to do so because it would sanctify the surrounding area and anything that Aziraphale blessed had a tendency to stay blessed for a very long time. If it came down to that their relationship, friendship, whatever they had would lose all hope of salvation.

"Drat it all, Crowley!" Aziraphale exclaimed thrusting his fingers through his curls, tangling them as he lost his composure. "Would you cut me some slack? Do you have any idea how petrified I am that I might fall over this whole dratted affair?"

"If you were going to fall for it you'd know by now," Crowley's tone didn't soften in the least.

"There's a difference between committing a one time transgression and consorting with the enemy."

"Am I your enemy now?" Crowley asked, voice pitched low.

"You know what I mean."

"And you know that you've been 'consorting with the enemy' for eons. You also know that the only person," a skyward gesture, "that matters has seen every little damn thing you've ever done so it's not like you need to hide."

"He doesn't usually get involved in the day to day workings of the host. If my supervisors were to notice certain goings on they could ruin things. Reassign me, forbid me from being in contact with you. I can't refuse a direct order."

"Would it even bother you if they did that?" The words were bitter.

"Of course it would. It would be impossible for me to even pretend that I don't care for you, Crowley." It was hardly the admission Crowley had been hoping for but that didn't prevent something from welling brightly in his chest, though he did his best to quell it.

"Is that little tidbit supposed to make me feel better? Is that supposed to make up for the fact that you fucked me and left me?"

"Are you this upset that I wont sleep with you again?" Aziraphale asked, a touch maliciously to retaliate for the uncomfortable questions Crowley had posed.

"It was never about the sex," Crowley snarled, learning towards Aziraphale and jabbing a finger at him. "I was just fine with the scraps of time you deigned to give me. That night I was just so damn happy that you appeared to want more than the occasion lunch at the Ritz or drinking binge that I would have settled for just spending the night in your arms. You're the one who pushed me into bed. You're the one who wouldn't be dissuaded. I tried to take it slow, I tried to make it special but you just wanted to get off."

"Now wait just a minute," Aziraphale protested as he flushed, indignation pulling him to his feet.

"No, damn it, I wont." Crowley surged to his own feet, going toe to toe with the angel, hurling his hurt and anger into the face inches above his own. "I tried to make love to you and you just wanted to fuck. Just fuck and leave, not giving a single damn thought to anyone's feelings but your own."

"It wasn't like that," Aziraphale's objection sounded weak to his own ears. "I didn't mean, I never meant to give you that impression. That you weren't important to me."

"Save it angel. It doesn't matter anymore." The lie was so obvious Aziraphale didn't bother to call Crowley on it.

"It matters to me," Aziraphale whispered and tilted his head down so his lips hovered above the demons. "You matter to me." He pressed his mouth to the demon's before Crowley could back away from the invasion of his personal space. Crowley remained wooden under the kiss, unable to react, unable to think. "Please, lets just start over again."

Aziraphale raised his hands to capture Crowley's face, cupping those lovely cheeks and urging him to surrender to his touch as he lay another kiss on sculpted lips. Inch by inch Crowley yielded to it, a sound of desperation tearing from his throat. Crowley threw his body into Aziraphale's which forced the angel to move back to keep them from landing on the floor.

They ended several steps away from the bed with Aziraphale supporting Crowley in his arms while Crowley pressed his face into the crook of Aziraphale's neck, his sunglasses digging into angelic flesh. Crowley held onto Aziraphale for several long moments, seeming to draw strength from the scent of the angel. Aziraphale wondered briefly if the demon was crying, but when Crowley pulled back from him his cheeks were dry.

Crowley moved back to sit on the bed and adjusted his sunglasses, looking away from the angel.

"So, what does this mean?" The words were so guarded and wary they made Aziraphale's heart ache, but he understood Crowley had the right to ask. Aziraphale sat on the bed, thigh pressed alongside Crowley's and laid a tender hand on the demon's knee. Aziraphale was silent for a moment and he realized that this was the reason he'd spent hours watching over Crowley's sleeping form. Realized that he'd spent hours trying to figure out how to bring this about, because he did want it. He desperately wanted it.

"I think you were right in that if I were going to fall for this, I probably would have done so already. I also think that I owe you an apology for my earlier behaviors. I should never have left like I did, I can only say in my defense that I panicked. I don't want to lose you Crowley." Aziraphale moved his hand from Crowley's knee and grasped Crowley's hand, tugging it until the demon turned his face to him. "I don't know that I'll be any good at it, but I'd like to try and have a, well, an affair with you."

"I meant it before when I said it I didn't want just sex from you," Crowley ventured tentatively, face flushing. He was well aware that was probably the most undemonic thing he'd ever uttered but the embarrassment wasn't great enough to keep him from making sure what the angel was offering.

"You know I don't sleep often, but when I do I think I'd enjoy waking up next to you Crowley." Aziraphale laid a gentle kiss on Crowley's knuckles.

"Of course, now that we know you're willing to make an effort I think plenty of sex ought up make up for your poor morning after etiquette," the demon said with a salacious wriggle of his eyebrows. "You wont be getting of the hook that easy." Aziraphale laughed, elated to see that his counterpart had regained his equilibrium and allowed Crowley to drag him back onto the bed to start on his penance.


End file.
